A good boy (or how the Black Widow earned her reputation)
by Amber Akasha
Summary: "I'm a good boy, I promise. I don't shout, I don't run indoors, I don't let my robes get dirty and I do as my tutors say. It's just that those men insist on marrying Mother, when they are unworthy of her. I just like to remind them that they are not." Blaise Zabini just wishes those men would leave his Mother alone.
1. Little Blaise Zabini

Hi!

So, this is a version of my original story "A good girl" (it's in my fictionpress account). For this story Blaise Zabini is a young boy, son of Allegra Zabini (I couldn't find her cannon name, so I just chose one). They lived in Italy until Blaise's dad died, then moved to England (I know Italian Zabini is not cannon, but it's a major part of his fanfiction characterization, and I wanted to use Italian endearments).

First part is in his POV, second in his mother's. **It will be a bit disturbing**, just warning you in case you'd rather not read it.

Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**POV: Little Blaise Zabini**

He looks at me and can barely disguise the hunger in his greedy little eyes. I do not know what Mother sees in this swine.

But I grit my teeth and smile, because I'm supposed to think good thoughts, be a good boy. And thinking he is ugly, and stupid, that is not a nice thought.

So I don't think that. I just stand there, quietly, thinking about how he is an acceptable husband for Mother.

Even though he is not.

But that's not important, what's important is that I'm thinking good thoughts and being a good boy and behaving. Mother doesn't like it when I misbehave.

I'm a good boy, I promise. I don't shout, I don't run indoors, I don't let my robes get dirty and I do as my tutors say. They all say I'm a polite, little gentleman. They say I'm a delight to teach, such a bright young boy. Mother always nods and smiles, a tight little smile that's never for them, even if they sometimes smile back.

So I nod as he says his name, slip my hand into Mother's, whisper "_mia bella madre_" as I rest my head against her hip and stare at him in silence. Mother said you should be silent if you have nothing nice to say. And good boys do as their mothers say.

They all end up leaving, one way or another, even if I'm a good boy, but that's not my fault. I'm always nice to them, I promise.

Even if they are not good enough for Mother.

None of them are, you know. Mother, she is perfect. The most graceful witch to ever grace the earth. _Donna bellissima _doesn't do her justice, _fata_ still falls short of her beauty, she is wise and witty and just perfect.

How can they even think they could measure up to her?

So I don't let them try.

.

That's still being a good boy, isn't it?

Of course it is. I'm following the rules.

It's them, they are the ones trying to be someone they are not.

Only they don't get timeout and their toys taken away, but that's because Mother always forgets.

It doesn't matter, though, because I remember for her.

Even if she sometimes tries to find the one that will be good enough to keep her company. But that's all-right, because as long as she has me by her side she will never lack a companion. She told me so herself.

So I keep the unworthy ones away from her.

I'm a good boy, I promise.

Even if sometimes Mother thinks I'm not, but that's because she doesn't remember that they are not good enough. That they don't deserve to be with her. She becomes sad, sometimes, until she remembers that she still has me, will always have me.

She doesn't need them.

She always remembers I'm her _figlio_ _perfetto_ in the end, though, and even if they leave she stays with me.

Of course she does.

I'm a good son. She's my mother.

He is acceptable, I guess. He looks nice, all polished and dark robes and a shiny smile, but they always look nice, and they never are.

.

He smiles at me, and from my mother's side I smile back. He doesn't know how to smile right, his smile is tight in all the wrong places, fake and shiny and wrong. I don't like him. I can already tell he's not worthy of breathing the same air Mother does.

But that's ok, because I only have to wait until he proves himself unworthy, and then it'll be bye-bye again.

And it'll be just Mother and me. As it's supposed to be.

* * *

Translations are probably not spot on, since I don't actually speak Italian, but here it goes:

Mia bella madre = my beautiful mother

Donna bellissima = beautiful woman

Fata = siren, vamp, femme fatale, fairy

Figlio perfetto = perfect son

R&R?


	2. Ms Zabini

**POV: Allegra Zabini**

They don't understand, and I can never let them understand. They call me the Black Widow –always behind my back, of course, disguised by dainty little hands over thin-lipped mouths, polite conversation mixed in with gossip- and think they know why my husbands keep dropping like flies.

If they knew… If they found out, they would take him from my side, my beautiful child, _mio figlio bello_, and I can not –will not- bear that.

So I take the crown upon my brow and smile, mysteriously, so that they think I keep a secret that I don't, so that they don't dig just a little bit deeper into this beautiful facade. I pretend to pretend and I've gotten so good at it sometimes even I forget that I'm pretending.

I might have to take matters into my own hands, a time or two, once he's gone from my household, just to make sure no-one suspects. And then I will retire, go back to Italy, my beautiful home. _Italia_…I long for your _palazzi_, the art, the manners… I long to hear the sound of my smooth mother tongue rolling off the lips of those who are the true aristocracy of this world.

But not yet. The news of my first husband's demise have not abated yet, and I can not risk my son by going back. They don't understand. They could never understand my _figlio_ _perfetto_.

.

So I wait. He will soon grow old enough to leave the home, and after that, he'll find a bride of his own. He is just as beautiful as I am, perhaps even more blessed by sweet Aradia than any of his generation. Despite my reputation, and the one he is sure to amass himself, he will never lack a companion. The goddess has been merciful, has sought to create a balance in him for the nature she so cruelly imposed him with.

I have stopped looking for husbands I can stand. I only wish to spare myself the heartbreak, for I know none of them will live long enough. It makes it easier to look away, when I can at least console myself with the idea that they deserve it. _Giustizia t__erribile_. Because no matter how much the sickness glints in my beautiful boy's eyes, I know I will not leave him to weather this world alone, not until he's ready and I'm no more than a burden to him. He loves me, still; I can see it when he turns those beautiful, serious eyes towards me, holding my hand gently, whispering _mia bella madre _reverently. I can not allow them, those judging witches and wizards, to gaze upon his true nature, for they would not understand the beauty of the spider that binds and devours, the beauty of the serpent whose bite condemns to suffering and death. I will not allow them to lay a single finger on my son's head, nor will I allow a single stray thread of magic to touch him.

If they have to die, to pay the price of my son's freedom, so be it. He is family, where they are not, and he will not be harmed as long as there is breath left in my body with which to defend him.

* * *

Again, I don't speak Italian, so translations are probably not spot on. Here it goes:

Mia bella madre = my beautiful mother

Mio figlio perfetto = my perfect son

Italia = Italy (duh)

Palazzi = urban building built as a grand residence

Giustizia terribile = terrible justice

If you wonder who Aradia is, I got her name from The Gospel of Witches. In part the legend says: "Then having obtained a pilgrim's dress, she traveled far and wide, teaching and preaching the religion of old times, the religion of Diana, the Queen of the Fairies and of the Moon, the goddess of the poor and the oppressed. And the fame of her wisdom and beauty went forth over all the land, and people worshipped her, calling her La Bella Pellegrina (the beautiful pilgrim)." I tweaked it a bit to make her a Goddess in Italian witches' religion.


End file.
